


A Stolen Kiss

by SwanFloatieKnight



Category: 13th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Heartache, Heartbreak, Inspired by Poetry, Kissing, M/M, Memories, Pining, Sad, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-30 16:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/pseuds/SwanFloatieKnight
Summary: Reinmar has had a crush on Walther, since he first moved to the Court of Vienna. Only that Walther had left shortly after his arrival. And even that he got Walther's Job as a Minnesänger at court didn't do much to brighten his spirits. Because Walther had run off, first to King Phillip, and later to Thuringia to be with that Wolfram von Eschenbach, a famous poet as well and author of theParzival. He had never so much as looked at Reinmar.And this loss hurt. After all these years, it still hurt.
Relationships: Wolfram von Eschenbach/Walther von der Vogelweide, onesided Reinmar von Hagenau/Walther von der Vogelweide
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	A Stolen Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writeranthea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/gifts), [Ganelon8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganelon8/gifts).

> This is a work of **fiction**. It is true that Walther parodied Poems by Reinmar and vice versa, but they most certainly did this not because of some kind of (unrequited) romantic or sexual attraction towards one another.  
In older research literature, the theory of Reinmar and Walther battling each other through songs was based on some personal beef between them, but today it is mostly believed that this was just some friendly banter between colleagues.  
Also, it is not sure whether Reinmar was actually the court Minnesänger in Vienna or not, and it also isn't sure if Walther started his career there. Far too many uncertainties in medieval literature… (leaves more space for my own weird fantasies lol)

A/N: I posted this fic on Ao3, and on Ao3 alone. If you read this on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to this.

* * *

How did you know that someone was more than a teenage crush to you, more than a small romance or an affair that would last for merely a few weeks? For Reinmar it was easy to tell: It was more when you still remembered him. When you still wanted him near, even though you knew for certain that he was far out of his reach. When you still longed for hem, even though you knew that he had found someone else long ago. And it was definitely more when after years you still wrote poetry about him, for him, with the hope that he would read it and maybe even like it.

True love was when after all this time it still hurt.

It was this cruelly stinging pain somewhere deep in his chest that made Reinmar write his most lovely poems. An attempt to put his suffering into words, give them a form and an expression, something to refer and hold on to. Sometimes, after a year or two, he actually heard or read a piece of Walther’s _sanc_ that reminded him of his own verses, and then he knew that Walther must at least have read his poems.

It made him happy, because he knew that Walther must have thought of him when he had parodied his _minnesanc_. Yet at the same time, it filled him with deep melancholy, because Walther would never have written these words when they had come together together. When he would not miss Walther so much that he had to pour his pain into poetry.

Right now, it was especially painful. This evening, a man had come to court, he had been to Thuringia a few months ago and he had brought news with him, and a poem. A poem by Walther, addressed to him, written neatly on a small piece of parchment. And this poem cut through his heart in a cruel way. It reminded Reinmar of his own verses he had written about two years ago.

_ Ich wirbe umbe allez, daz ein man_

_ Ze weltlîchen vröiden iemer haben sol. (1)_

Nothing else he wished for. A friendly soul, a kind companion, a person to share a life with. And in the very moment, when he had first laid his eyes upon Walther, he had known that Walther was that person.

Unfortunately, Walther had already been about to leave the court when Reinmar had arrived. At that time, he also had been madly in love with that Wolfram von Eschenbach who lived somewhere close to Nuremberg. He actually preferred that ruffled fellow over him! A man who always used such strange metaphors in his romances and whose poetry was mostly about forbidden sex. Curse these damned _tagelieder_!

How could one so lovely as Walther have such bad taste in men? Reinmar would never be able to understand that. But he still loved him, regardless of his rejection.

_ Doch hân ich mir ein liep erkorn,_

_ deme ich ze dienst – und wær ez al der welte zorn –_

_wil sîn geborn. (2)_

Nothing would ever change this, he feared. You could not kill feelings, no matter how hard you tried. Even though it hurt. Maybe it would hurt even more to finally erase them from his heart.

_Unde ist, daz mirs mîn sælde gan,_

_daz ich abe ir wol redendem munde ein küssen mac versteln,_

_gît got, daz ich ez bringe dan,_

_sô will ich ez tougenlîche tragen und iemer heln. (3)_

Yes, he had kissed Walther, once. It had been a few hours before Walther had left Vienna, in a dark corridor, and he had only dared to do it because he had been certain to never meet the other man again. Only for a few seconds their lips had touched before he had pulled his head back, feeling guilty and excited at the same time. Then he had looked into Walther’s eyes and seen the compassionate pity of a man who understood, but did not feel the same. At least Walther had not cursed his actions, he had not hated him for kissing him. He had only sighed quietly and whispered: “I’m sorry, Reinmar.”

Then he had turned around and gone. Reinmar had stared after him, his heart aching. The sound of Walther’s steps soon had faded into silence, he had been left alone. He had known with unexplainable certainty that from now on, he would spend many a night trying to forget this short moment.

His lips had cooled slowly.

Years later, he had met Walther again. He had seen him only from afar, during a meeting of some German dukes. He had been at Wolfram’s side, and he had looked so joyful. And while it had made Reinmar happy to see Walther happy, at the same time it had also rekindled the stinging pain in his heart and the cruel memory of this one kiss they shared. It had been years ago, and it still hurt far too much.

Now, that he held this cursed piece of parchment in hands, with Walther’s elegant words written on it, he could not help but smile a little, smile to try and hide the pain. These verses were more than justified, after all at that time he had written about kissing a lady, and if she didn’t like it returning the kiss to her – what actually meant kissing her again. Of course he had thought of Walther while writing about this lady, and of course Walther knew this.

At least this was the only way for Reinmar to explain Walther’s scathing words. About a kiss that a lady did not want to have back, and that he could put wherever he wanted to. Walther made it clear that he did not want him. Had never wanted him. He had his Wolfram, this strange man with his weird metaphors and the huge project of writing a romance about Parzival. Reinmar would never understand what Walther found in him.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, if the distance between them would remain (and Reinmar was sure it would. Why should Walther return to Vienna, and why on earth should he go to Thuringia?), the pain would finally subside. It was all he could do about it. Hoping for it to get better one day, and writing poetry about the loss of something he never possessed.

It stung to read Walther’s lines. Yet, Reinmar knew that the other man was right. Of course, Walther would never want that stolen kiss back. He had another man now he could steal kisses from. Reinmar should stop yearning for him, he knew that. If only he could.

_Swer aber küssen hie ze mir gewinnen will,_

_der werbe ez mit vuoge und ander spil._

_Ist, daz ez im wird iesâ,_

_er muoz sîn iemer sîn mîn diep und habe imz dâ_

_und lege ez anderswâ. (4)_

**Author's Note:**

> The MHG text is mostly from Reinmar, _Ich wirbe umbe allez, daz ein man_, except the verses from (4), they are from Walther's _Ein man verbiutet ein spil âne pfliht_  
The translations are my own, sorry if they are crappy, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong
> 
> _(1)_ I woo for everything that a man can ever get of mundane joy.
> 
> _(2)_ But I have chosen a love who I will to serve like I was born for it - even if all the world would scorn me for it.
> 
> _(3)_ And should I ever gain bliss by stealing a kiss from her red mouth, may god give that I may achieve this, then I will carry it secretly and hide it.
> 
> _(4)_ If someone should ever win a kiss from me, he better should woo for it with modesty and following the rules of the game. But should he get it too rashly, he will forever be my thief and he can keep this kiss and put it somewhere else.


End file.
